


Pour Some Sugar On Me

by dakiniten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, I Don't Even Know, Implied Slash, M/M, One Word Prompt Meme, maple syrup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-30
Updated: 2009-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dakiniten/pseuds/dakiniten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam is grumpy, Dean is oblivious, and Betty the Waitress is evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour Some Sugar On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to byaghro's prompt maple syrup. This is my first foray into writing Supernatural, as well as my first foray into anything even remotely resembling slash. Rating is for language, I guess. I've always used the F-bomb a lot so I lack proper perspective on what is age-appropriate as far as language goes.

Sam was going to kill someone. More specifically, he was going to kill an overly perky waitress-y someone, whose nametag read Betty. He and Dean were getting breakfast at a mom and pop diner before hitting the road again. The bubbly brunette hadn’t _seemed_ like one of Hell’s minions as she took their orders. She wasn’t that suspicious when she brought out their food, although it was a little strange when she brought out what looked like a gallon jug of syrup and insisted that Dean try it. She laid it on pretty thick even by chicks-who-flirt-with-Dean standards, giving a saucy wink for good measure. Of course this prompted Dean to practically drown his breakfast in the stuff. But that didn’t even trip Sam’s something’s-wrong-here sensors. Okay, so she had a thing for Dean. Typical. So she was trying to get into his pants through his stomach. Effective, but hardly original.

It wasn’t until Dean started eating the sodden mess that was his breakfast that Betty’s sinister nature became clear to Sam. She had to be evil, with her evil syrup and her evil insistence that Dean try it, because Sam could not make himself stop staring at his brother. Dean was the same as always, how many breakfasts in how many diners just like this one had there been, and Dean was always a slightly messy eater, more concerned with the taste of the food than keeping his face and hands clean. But this time was different, because there was a stray drip of sugary evil on Dean’s chin that he didn’t seem to notice, and it was driving Sam insane. And Dean’s lips – _dammit, had he always had those lips?_ – were shiny, sticky-sweet and Sam had to tear his eyes away to glare at his coffee. Then at Betty. Then at the giant pitcher of syrupy evil sitting on the table. What the _fuck._

“What’re you brooding about all of a sudden?” Dean questioned around a mouthful of soggy eggs. Sam looked up at him and wished he hadn’t. The syrup coated Dean’s lips like gloss, shiny and sweet-smelling and making him look entirely more effeminate ( _and hot, don’t forget hot,_ Sam’s treacherous brain added) than he had any right to look. Sam was officially freaking out about his fixation on Dean’s lips and forced himself to look elsewhere. He threw a napkin in his brother’s general direction.

“Wipe your face, Neanderthal.” Sam turned the full force of his displeasure on Betty, who was standing at the register and not even bothering to pretend she wasn’t watching them. _Evil,_ Sam thought again, resolving to splash her with holy water when she brought the check. Maybe. But probably not. Because while she had certainly done some crazy shit to Sam’s brain with the stupid _evil_ syrup, it didn’t seem malicious or even intentional. Damn it. But they were getting biscuits to go for breakfast from now on, that was for damn sure.

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, with Sam periodically giving Betty the stink-eye and making a point to look at Dean as little as possible. Especially since Dean’s messiness had now extended to his hands – _how do you get syrup on your hands, aren’t you using a fork?_ – and Sam was pretty sure that the way Dean licked his fingers was illegal in several states. When Betty the Bearer of Evil Sweeteners came to bring them the check, Dean made a huge production of telling her how great the syrup was on breakfast, and opining that it was probably good on other stuff, too. _My brother the manwhore and king of bad pick-up lines,_ Sam thought, rolling his eyes as he paid the bill. He went on to the car, deciding he deserved a turn at the wheel after _that_ ordeal.

Dean took another five minutes to follow him out, and he was carrying a small red and white gift bag. He climbed into the passenger seat without complaint, which was strange in and of itself, as was the confused look on his face. Sam turned to look at his brother, giving him a minute to say whatever it was he was thinking so hard about.

“She said we should share this,” Dean finally said, lifting the bag. He still looked confused and a little bewildered. Sam reached into the bag and pulled out a small bottle that was labeled “Betty Jean’s Maple Syrup.”

“Then why do you look like she said it in a language you don’t understand?” Sam asked, putting the evil bottle from the evil waitress back in its evil bag of evilness.

“Because she sort of…waggled her eyebrows and winked, when she said it.” Bewilderment was quickly overtaking confusion on Dean’s face.

“Like you do when you say something innocent but you mean something dirty?” Sam ventured. So Betty _was_ evil. Not too late for the holy water.

“Yes, exactly like that. I know people think we’re gay sometimes, but she seemed to be… I don’t know, like she was getting off on the thought of us…” Dean shut up there, looked at the bag on the seat between them like it was a snake. Sam couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Well…some chicks are into that. And really, you can’t blame her. Have you _seen_ your mouth?” And with that, Sam put the car in gear and hit the road, Dean gaping like a fish beside him. He kept opening and closing his mouth, which really drew attention to his full, too-pretty lips that were still slightly shiny, sticky-sweet with Betty Jean’s Evil Maple Syrup.


End file.
